


How Sweet the Sound

by xDinahQueenx



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-07
Updated: 2010-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 23:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDinahQueenx/pseuds/xDinahQueenx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very mild pre-slash, kind of. Mulcahy keeps Hawkeye company when he can't see. Spoilers for episode s5e4, "Out of Sight, Out of Mind".</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Sweet the Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 24 Hour Challenge prompt on the mash-slash yahoo! group. The prompt was "Song or Dance". This was what sprang in my head when I read the prompt, and I figured someone would want to read it. ^_^

Hawkeye was trying to pretend that his eyes were just closed and that at any time, he would be able to open them again, and be awash in the lights and colors. It had kept him from going out of his mind, while he listened to the patients in the Post Op. He wanted to help, he'd tried to help, but there wasn't much a blind doctor could do for anyone. The thought, unbidden as it was, struck him deep in his chest in a painful way, tightening and gripping around his lungs and heart. Almost like jumping in to ice cold water, and he had to fight it back as a painful sob caught right in his throat. His fists clenched, and he went back to trying to pretend. It didn't help, nor did the knowledge that if he _was_ blind from the backfire, at least he'd be able to go home.

The whole thing wasn't sitting right with him, however, and he wished he could close his mind off to everything dealing with that. It was too painful to think about, not being a Doctor anymore. It was almost as though something very precious was being taken from him, more than his sight… being a doctor was what he'd always wanted. Now a stupid accident had changed everything, and he'd be going home to do… nothing. What could he do? Teach medicine, probably. The thought was chilling and he wanted to curl up and just cry… though he doubted his tear ducts were working properly right now. He felt the tears catch in the back of his throat, making it feel raw. People were working, and the Swamp was quiet, and he wished it wasn't. He could hear people and it made him feel so disconnected that it was… almost enough to make him go insane. He heard the door to the Swamp open, then close.

Hawkeye heard the person sit, and felt a hand hold his lightly, their fingers intertwining. They were warm and gentle. He didn't move and kept his breathing shallow. There was silence for a few moments, from whoever had come in, and then there was the sound of shifting.

"Hawkeye?" Father Mulcahy's voice was familiar, a bit uncertain, the pitch a bit higher than most of the other men in the camp. Hawkeye listened to the sounds from outside, a distant rumble of thunder heralding rain. He shifted a little, not enough to dislodge Mulcahy's hand. Hawkeye breathed out a sigh and tightened his hand around Mulcahy's just fractionally.

"Are you alright?" Hawkeye asked after a moment, and couldn't help but smile as he heard the startled laugh from Mulcahy.

"Am I alright?" He responded, Hawkeye nodded, and Mulcahy laughed again, quieter this time. "That's an odd question, Hawkeye. One I should be asking you." Mulcahy added. There was another subtle shift. "But yes, I'm fine. Are…"

"Don't even ask, Father." Hawkeye responded, interrupting him. "Because you're not going to like the answer." Hawkeye added. He recognized a certain note in his voice. It was a tone he got more often than he liked… some bitter, swathed in sarcasm, tone that he used as armor against a situation that was more likely than not going to drive him insane eventually. _Now_, as a matter of fact, if he didn't get his vision back.

"I know that medically, there's nothing I can do." Mulcahy said after a few more heartbeats of silence. Hawkeye was glad that Mulcahy had his hand, with how quiet the camp was, the loss of all sensory input would have made him howl. "But I thought you might be comforted if I… sat with you. There's…" He started, then stopped. Hawkeye listened for him to continue.

Mulcahy had been unsure of what to say. What he had been going to say, without thinking about it, was that there was nothing better for him to do, but that sounded cruel, and Mulcahy wasn't that type of person. And it wasn't true either, he genuinely liked Hawkeye and wanted to be some measure of comfort for him. Hawkeye frowned as Mulcahy still didn't speak.

"There's?" Hawkeye prompted after a moment, liking the silence even less now that he knew there was someone in there with him.

"Huh?" Mulcahy said, then smiled. "Oh, yes. There's a hymn I thought might provide some bit of comfort to you." Mulcahy told him after a moment. "Now, let me just see if I can remember how it goes…" Mulcahy trailed off, humming quietly, trying to find what he was looking for. Hawkeye smiled at that.

Mulcahy tilted his head back slightly, his voice lifted in song. Mulcahy was a better singer than he was a piano player, and Hawkeye could almost imagine the way he looked when he sang. Mulcahy kept their fingers entwined, his other hand around the silver cross he wore. Hawkeye didn't recognize the song, but it sounded… hopeful, he supposed.

"Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light. Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home." Mulcahy sang, and Hawkeye listened. Mulcahy finished the song, his voice wavering just lightly at the end, and Hawkeye felt his own hands tighten around Mulcahy's. The silence returned, but it was comfortable this time, companionable.

"I… should probably let you get some rest." Mulcahy said after another few moments. "I only thought you might… want someone here with you for a while." Mulcahy paused, and Hawkeye suddenly felt Mulcahy's other hand on his forehead, warm and light.

"Don't worry too much, Hawkeye." Mulcahy said, his voice sounding a bit stronger now. "The will of God will never take you where the grace of God cannot protect you." Mulcahy was trying to reassure him, Hawkeye realized. Mulcahy stood to leave then, and Hawkeye was suddenly aware of the lack of sensation.

"Father?" Hawkeye said this almost tentatively, which was reason enough for Mulcahy to give pause. "Would you mind staying with me until… Beej gets in, at least?" Hawkeye asked. Mulcahy was surprised, but he smiled anyways.

"Of course, my son." Mulcahy said and it was only a few seconds before Mulcahy took a seat by Hawkeye's bed once more, and resumed holding his hand. Hawkeye tried to relax and did when he felt Mulcahy's thumb stroking easily over his knuckles. Mulcahy wasn't sure what to do, so he sat with Hawkeye.

"It's too quiet." Hawkeye told him and Mulcahy smiled. The hand moved back to his forehead, still gentle, then carded through his hair in a reassuring type of touch… much like a mother would give to a sick child.

"You're right… perhaps you know this one…" Mulcahy said, and he began to sing again, this time a more popular hymn. Hawkeye did know it, slightly, and joined in with the verses and refrain, and Mulcahy kept him company until B.J. got in from his shift in the O.R.

"B.J. is on his way." Mulcahy told Hawkeye, and he stood. Hawkeye mumbled kind of sleepily. Mulcahy made a cross over Hawkeye, and bowed his head in a silent prayer for Hawkeye to recover, then he bent forward to brush a kiss to Hawkeye's forehead. He was straightening up the covers when B.J. came in.

Mulcahy smiled at B.J. slightly and then left, and when Hawkeye slept, he dreamed of an angel who sat with him in dark times... with wide blue eyes, large round glasses, and a shy, uncertain smile.


End file.
